Inside the brightly lit study at 160 Böklund Street.
The bookshelves are lined up in rows, with a vast collection; at first glance, it feels like stepping into a private library.
Klein was sitting in a high-backed chair, looking at today's newspapers, and noticed that both the Tussock Times and the Backlund Daily had a prominent advertisement for the transfer of 10% of Backlund Bicycle Company's shares.
Mr. Stanton is quite efficient; he completed the financial investigation and valuation in just a few days... Klein was just thinking to himself when a sudden Spirit Intuition struck him.
He quickly activated his Spirit Vision and saw the messenger Reinette Tinekerr, emerge from the void, still carrying the four blond, red-eyed heads, one of which was biting a letter.
It must be Miss Sharron's reply... Klein thought to himself as he reached out and took the letter, nodding slightly.
"Thanks."
As he spoke, he subconsciously glanced at the study door, where his personal valet, Richardson, stood guard.
Klein tore open the envelope, unfolded the paper, and quickly glanced at it, confirming that the letter was indeed from Miss Sharron. She stated that she currently had no intention of purchasing the " Biotoxin Bottle," but might consider it later if the magical item was still available.
Was it a lack of financial resources? Or were they saving money for something more important? Klein thought about it casually and intuitively thought it was the latter. The Demigod named Zatwin couldn't stay in Backlund forever. Sharron and Maric had managed to escape the Rose School of Thought's pursuit. With their extraordinary strength and Sequence characteristics, making money would be relatively easy in a relaxed environment. Moreover, they seemed to control the black market arms trade at the " Bravehearts Bar," acting as Ian's backers. This one line alone could earn them a lot.
As he was thinking, Klein raised his head and saw that the messenger girl's four pairs of eight red eyes were staring at him without moving.
He was startled, thinking the other party was going to press for repayment, and cleared his throat, saying:
No reply is needed.
"The first installment will be paid this week."
Reinette Tinekerr's four heads spoke in turn:
"No need... to rush... there's no... interest..."
"The messenger is quite nice..." Klein sighed as Reinette Tinekerr's figure vanished from the spot, returning to the depths of the Spirit World.
He burned the letter, rested for a quarter of an hour, then went to the door and instructed Richardson to prepare the carriage.
He planned to go to church before his afternoon philosophy class.
The journey was smooth, and Klein, who had only drunk a few sips of black tea, soon arrived at the square outside Saint Samuel Cathedral.
After enjoying the tranquility brought by the white doves for a while, he stepped through the church doors and into the prayer hall, casually finding a seat to sit down. Richardson, as before, was holding his employer's hat and cane, sitting diagonally behind him.
In the midst of a blank prayer, Klein was struck by Spirit Intuition again, instinctively opening his eyes and looking to his left.
He then saw Leonard Mitchell with his dark hair and green eyes.
This " Nighthawks " wasn't wearing a trench coat, but a white shirt without a belt, paired with straight-leg pants and a black vest, giving off a very casual vibe.
Seeing the middle-aged gentleman with graying temples looking over, he smiled and nodded, then looked away, closed his eyes, and pretended to pray.
He wasn't worried that the other person would notice him staring at him, because he only glanced at them and didn't make any other movements; many believers had done similar things earlier.
When a handsome and charismatic gentleman enters this place, he inevitably attracts a certain amount of attention Leonard Mitchell himself is often the subject of such scrutiny and knows this all too well.
At that moment, a slightly aged voice rang out in his mind:
"That's him."
"Ah, all my efforts running to the church yesterday and today haven't been in vain..." Leonard thought with a hint of pride, but remained outwardly calm.
Klein was also pretending to pray, pondering the doubts that were rising in his mind:
When did Leonard become so devout?
"Although he's definitely more devout than I am, he's definitely not the type to go to church every day; it's only once a week, or even every two weeks..."
"Did he come with a purpose? He seemed to be sizing me up just now..."
Thinking about this, Klein suddenly realized something:
"The old man inside him is Angel from the Zoroast Family, specifically Angel from the ' Marauder ' pathway..."
"The ' Blasphemer ' Amon is the Angel King of this path; He can detect the Gray Fog and even attempts to infiltrate it..."
"Therefore, it's highly likely that the old man within Leonard has already detected the Gray Fog power, or rather, the traces, on my body!"
With this assessment, Klein's heart leaped into his throat, as if the surroundings were filled with dangerous traps.
He remained in a prayer position, his eyes did not move, and his whole demeanor was calm and composed, perfectly in line with the atmosphere inside the church.
After an unknown amount of time, he slowly rose, walked to the altar, and went to the offering box, where he dropped in a total of 50 pounds in banknotes.
Then, as before, he smiled and nodded to the bishop and priest in charge that day, receiving a rather friendly response.
As he walked out of Saint Samuel Cathedral, Klein took the hat from Richardson and fed the white doves in the square for about ten minutes.
Behind him, believers who had finished praying came out one after another, including Leonard Mitchell.
Klein didn't even glance at the main entrance. He casually clapped his hands, picked up his gilded cane, and walked towards the four-wheeled carriage parked nearby.
Leonard also fed the white doves in the square, watching his target board the carriage and leave, without any intention of following him.
Since the other party possessed an ancient aura and had gained the attention of the inhabitant within him, he naturally dared not be careless or take direct action, as that would be extremely dangerous.
He planned to first survey the surrounding area and gather necessary intelligence.
"We'll see what the Old Man says then... Besides, we're not without a direction to investigate. Those high-class carriages are quite rare in the entire Backlund. Whether they're owned or rented, it's easy to trace their origins. Then I'll be able to find out the gentleman's identity and background..." Leonard thought leisurely, gazing at the white doves.
He is a highly experienced " Nighthawks," and even more so, an elite " Red Gloves " among the " Nighthawks "!
Just then, a white dove fluttered its wings and flew over, seemingly carrying a note in its beak.
Leonard frowned, extended his left palm, and watched as the white dove descended, dropped the note, then flapped its wings and took flight again.
Leonard reached out and grasped the note, unfolding it with a mixture of wariness and suspicion. He saw only two words on it:
Zoroast;
" Parasite."
This... Leonard's pupils suddenly contracted, and he felt the hairs on his body stand on end. His emotions were on the verge of exploding.
That gentleman saw through my secret?
No wonder they have such an ancient air about them!
He might truly be one of the undead Monster that survived the Quaternary period!
Is he warning me? Is he telling me not to get involved in his affairs, or even to stay away from him?
At this moment, recalling that middle-aged gentleman with graying temples and deep blue eyes, Leonard Mitchell felt that every move he made carried a strong sense of intimidation, making people afraid to look him in the eye or get close.
He immediately lost interest in investigating the other party, and watching the white doves land simultaneously, he lowered his voice and said:
" Old Man, that might be an old friend of yours."
"If you want to investigate anything, wait until your strength has recovered sufficiently."
"Old friend..." The slightly aged voice repeated the two words, seemingly with some doubt, yet unsure of anything.
Leonard quickly composed himself and chuckled softly, saying:
"So you're from the Zoroast Family..."
At that moment, less than 100 meters away, at the intersection of Phelps Street and other streets.
Dawn Dantès, leaned back against the side of the carriage, slowly closing his eyes, hiding his sharply defined features in the shadows of the interior.
Beside his double, Richardson, a middle-aged man in a dark red coat and an old tricorn hat appeared out of nowhere, bowed to his master, and then disappeared without disturbing anyone.
The carriage slowly turned towards the square, where a flock of white doves took flight with a whoosh.
Back home, as he entered the room with the large balcony, Klein had been silent the whole way, finally let out a silent sigh.
If Leonard, under the old man's influence, refuses to heed the warning, he will write another note saying, "I know where ' The Blasphemer ' Amon is."
The implication was that if anyone tried to disrupt my plans again, I would tell " the Blasphemer " Amon that there was an Angel from the Zoroast Family here.
This didn't make the old man think that Dawn Dantès was weak and needed someone else to fight him; it was closer to a polite warning that was given no more than three times and a respect for an Angel.
If the behavior does not improve after two warnings, then the solution is not just to notify the " Blasphemer " Amon.
"Hmm, there's a high chance it will Awe them. That old man must have other motives or difficulties for choosing superficial Parasitism, and he probably doesn't want me to overturn the table... Heh, I have to thank ' Magic Mirror ' Arrodes for this. If I hadn't Prophet Leonard had a ' Marauder ' Angel inside him, I definitely wouldn't have realized I was being watched, let alone warned them with appropriate words and methods..." Klein thought calmly, no longer feeling the tension and panic he had before.
As he relaxed, there was a knock on the door. His personal valet, Richardson, said:
"Sir, the butler is looking for you."
"Please invite him in." Klein turned and left the large balcony, returning to the semi-open room.
Walter, wearing white gloves, Door Opening and came in, saying:
"Sir, your philosophy teacher, Mr. Hamid, has arrived."
Philosophy class... Klein rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on.
He had previously heard Walter mention that Mr. Hamid was a follower of the Lord of Storms, as were the famous scholar Leodero, and a large portion of the Philosopher in the Kingdom of Loen were as well.
This surprised him quite a bit, because in his mind, Storm Believers were synonymous with irritable old men.
Looks like I need to change that stereotypical, unobjective impression... Ha, so the prerequisite for becoming Philosopher is not being able to find a wife, or having a disharmonious family relationship? While grumbling, Klein straightened his clothes and walked towards the door, saying to the butler Walter:
"Okay, I'll be right there."
P. S.: I'm taking half a day off tomorrow, specifically for the chapter at noon, because I'm having some writer's block on how to develop the story. I need to figure it out.